Spent wa-ay too much time making this horrible wallpaper as a quick reference guide:
And it still ended up barely-readable on my dumbphone:
Ah well, I had fun. Oh wait, there is no “I” oh em gee I am failing at Buddhism already!11! Continue reading “making even crappy things is fun”
It’s taken all my effort to drag myself out of bed after maybe an hour and a half hitting the Snooze button the past few days, let alone do ANY form of exercise other than walk/bike to/from work, or even go online except to check the weather and bank account and spend hours mindlessly clicking about YouTube and WEBM threads on /b/. Been living in a nearly dead haze going barely able to drag myself through the motions of work and chores and little else for weeks. Wing-wonging between existential worries about such-and-so and feeling like a zombie trying to accomplish this-that-and-the-other, I don’t know how anyone pursues any form of goal or dream when I’m like a phone on perpetual <10% power doing my best to struggle-battle to barely keep up with work and chores — I would literally pay like $75/wk for someone to do my laundry and cooking and so forth! Where do people get their vim and verve? I’d probably feel better if my system weren’t perpetually flooded with caffeine, painkillers, diphenhydramine (insomnia), and off-brand Beano and Gas-X (for the 4-6 lb broccoli and/or green beans I stuff myself sick with every work day to combat my raging appetite because I’m scared to death of getting hit by a hunger-knock “in the field” which is difficult enough — that and eating like a monster is one my very few stress-relievers and I’ve been so strung-out lately I’ve probably sunk almost $500 on cheat meals in May alone!) bu-ut if I don’t I won’t get any sleep and I couldn’t animate my body enough to do my job and if I can’t work I’ll get fired etc. etc.
Dropped trike off; chain stretched (I JUST GOT THAT FIXED A MONTH AGO FOR $40) and something to do with the pedals; this could cost me anywhere between $25 to $150 and I’ll be walking to and from work who knows how many days; who can say if walking or cycling is worse for my back. Speaking of my back, it’s gotten, like, real bad in the past few days; trying not to freak out, trying not to let The Bad Thoughts grip me too hard. Ranting on the Internet while my heart palpitates from too much caffeine makes me feel a bit better, same with stuffing myself silly. Sucks that one of the few things that brings me joy in life makes me fat, forever swinging between “YAY FOOD FOOD!” and “NO NO NO EATING SUPER BAD WRONG!” But oh well, if I’m to keep looking okay in loose clothes (the best I can accomplish; no Looking Good Naked(tm) for me) I’ve no choice but to exercise constant vigilance against my own monstrous gluttony so that I do not return to looking like a monster — and sucking dry most of my emotional / willpower reserves in the process so I don’t have enough left for learning a new language or going to college or talking to girls or whatever. Oh well, nuttin’ a’tall to do but shrug and stop fighting fate and accept my ruined life, just lose myself in trivialities like anime and blogging muh feewings away until I die, the tagline on my tombstone “a giant waste of what could have been like 99.999% of all humans ever, but hey at least he didn’t die obese!”. Continue reading “riding ever onward”
I don’t trust ’em:
• They’re pushed too hard for comfort, like flu vaccinations and anti-psychotics/Ritalin/etc for little boys in the 90’s; this makes me very suspicious: “salesman behavior” raises red flags.
• I’ve seen/read/heard of too many horror stories.
• I’d have to spend months and months “pill-shopping” for one that “works”, spending hundreds of dollars and dozens of hours performing the hated Doctor-Shuffle — and who knows what side-effects and toxins I’ll be saddled with in the meanwhile.
• I at least know what bad things alcohol will do to me. (The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.)
• Is “depression” even a thing? I’m not wholly convinced this isn’t just some made-up BS* to sell drugs so nobody has to actually, y’know, treat the problem rather than bandage the symptoms. If someone has a broken foot, would you hand them more comfortable shoes and tell them to piss off?
• I’ve personally-witnessed their total ineffectiveness — everyone I’m close to are on them and they’re each still miserable.
I’d rather feel bad than become an ADHD zombie with erectile dysfunction. That, and it would be the Ultimate Surrender: just about my entire Health & Fitness Lifestyle has been at root about not being on anti-depressants. My struggles, my pride, my one and only thing I’ve ever pursued to any measure of success, will all be taken away from me the moment I pop my first anti-depressant. No, that’s not rational — so what? Being unreasonable and loony just makes me like everyone else; and considering the stark raving hostility I’ve noted over and over against individualism, elitism, the “South Park goth” stereotype, and so forth (how else do you explain “desire to be different” used as an insult? I’ve even seen uttered “borderline critique of authority” and no, I have yet to find a more sickening phrase); isn’t that a win?
There. I’ve spelled it out in plain, pure English. You can SHUT UP about it now. Thank you. Continue reading “anti-depressants = no”
“His feelings are so strong, he has trouble expressing them.”
Continue reading ““hey, that sounds like me!” and other incoherent fee-fees”
Sure would be nice to have the superpower of not being cripplingly-depressed and “autistic”; else I could have enough emotional energy to accomplish anything in life AND stay flabby-not-fat. But as it stands, I seem to only have enough “oomph” or “heart” or “manliness” in me to struggle-battle-struggle-battle against returning to morbid obesity AND keep up with all that entails with being a live-alone bachelor with a full-time job.
So it would appear that if I am to ever, say, learn Japanese or self-teach two-wheeled biking or how to draw or write a book or some other long-term goal, I will have to trash-bin the Health & Fitness Lifestyle and accept becoming a walking whale yet again as I just don’t have enough emotional energy to do more than one.
That or become an alcoholic so following more than one long-term goal doesn’t stress me to the gills and eventually trigger a nervous meltdown every time I try to death-match my appetite AND learn a trade so I have a better job or whatever else I’ve “always wanted to do”; that’s gotta be healthier than anti-depressants! And would it really be so bad to live a shorter, happier life?
First, let’s leave aside the obvious fact that no artform’s quality can nor should be objectively quantified; that subject has been beaten to death. Now then…
I have a habit of hitting Next, Next, Next on my MP3 player depending on my mood; most of the time I’m just not satisfied with whatever it throws at me. On one of my breaks, one song I passed over at that time was Great Hall Awaits A Fallen Brother by Bathory, but when it landed on Mermaid Festa Vol.1 (Kotori Mix) I let it play. Despite remembering the inability to quantify quality, I am confident in stating that there likely is no human being on Earth who, listening to both, could possibly say Great Hall Awaits A Fallen Brother (with its themes of brotherhood, glories and horrors of battle, loss, afterlife…) is worse than Mermaid Festa Vol. 1 — whether we’re speaking of the original or solo’d by one of the µ’s, this one the only out of the entire Love Live! discography IMO where all ten versions are worth keeping around; not even Snow Halation can survive the tedium of the vocals of Nozomi and Nico.
And yet, at that moment I chose to listen to Kotori’s nasally, shrill singing (Aya Uchida sounds so much better in her natural tone) along to a cheerful “seaside dance beat” full of flirty lyrics over the powerful, operatic Quorthon buoying this masterfully-crafted monolith of heavy metal’s supremacy as a musical genre.
Now why is that? Continue reading “is quality paramount? or even to be considered?”